The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

were left unspoken yet found a way to get satisfied, nonetheless. Some families simply turned a blind eye to the midnight activities of their sons. Others wanted to put a stop to “such foolishness.” That’s what Dash’s own father had tried to do.  Leave this schoolboy nonsense and accept your responsibility! He meant marriage to an upstanding society girl. For Dash, who was madly in love with someone else at the time, that would never do.

Dash crossed his arms over his chest. “And what were you planning to do with her once you found her?”

Walter’s eyes cleared, the spark reigniting those blue flames. “Talk to her.”

Atty leaned forward. “Tell it to Sweeney, you lying son of a bitch. Youse was gonna—”

“Atty.” Dash shook his head at his doorman, who backed away from Walter.

“Sorry, Boss. These bluenoses just get me so sore.”

“They get me sore as well.” Dash returned his attention to Walter. “You never heard of this club before?”

“I don’t even know its godforsaken name, and I don’t care to know it. I only want to stop my brother from further corruption by degenerates like you and perverts like that, that pansy.”

“I’m afraid you’re all wet. A pansy can’t force a man to do things he doesn’t want to do. Face it, mister, your brother wants to be in the life.”

“He would never. He is confused and confounded by your wickedness.”

Joe leapt to his defense. “There’s no wickedness here, ya bloody fool. Only people having a good time.”

“And we will not,” Dash said, “let you harm anyone in this club.”

Walter paused for a moment. More wipes of his bloody mouth with the handkerchief. “Very well. I wish to collect my brother and go home.”

Atty was incredulous. “Your brother’s a grown man, sir! He can do whatever he wants.”

“He lives with me and Mother. We follow her rules.”

“Great,” muttered Joe, “someone who’s still on Mother’s teat.”

Walter’s look hardened. “If I cannot confront this pansy for his involvement in my brother’s degeneracy, then I’m not leaving here without my brother. Even if I have to fight you all to do it.”

Atty responded by pulling out his Smith & Wesson from his pocket and aiming it at Walter.

Dash cut in. “Wait a moment.” He looked at Walter. “It wouldn’t be just us, I’m afraid. As I said before, you’re outnumbered in there. That damage to your face is the result of just one fairy. Can you imagine what an entire roomful would do to you?”

Dash let the thought simmer with Walter’s anger.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he continued. “I’ll go back in there and see if your brother is really here.”

“He is here.”

“If he’s here and if he wants to leave with you, then I will not stop it. But if he doesn’t, then he stays, and you can be on your merry way. Is that understood?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“It’s either me or no one at all.”

Walter tried to stand up to muscle his way back in, but the young boy in the green suit at the bar had clocked him good. His balance was off, and all Joe had to do was push him back into the wooden chair with a gentle palm. The pistol cocking in Atty’s hand helped to end the argument.

Walter glared at Dash. His pride would not allow him to admit defeat, but he knew good and well who had won this round. He folded his bloody handkerchief and placed it in his trouser pocket, then held open his hands, indicating acquiescence.

“Excellent,” said Dash. “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Karl.”

“What’s he look like?”

Walter reached for his inside jacket pocket.

Joe stiffened. “Easy, there. I wouldn’t try nothing.”

Walter gave him an annoyed look and slowly pulled out a small square of paper with bent edges. He handed it to Dash.

A photograph.

Dash supposed the image to be of Karl Müller. He was slight, the very opposite of his intimidating brother. A soft face with delicate features. His hair appeared ghostly white, as did the color of his skin. Gentle hands clasped in front of him in the stiff pose, the fingers looking like they trembled a bit before the flash bulb went off. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.

“Alright,” Dash said, “I’ll go see if he’s here.”

Atty gestured towards Walter with his pistol. “We’ll make sure he behaves.”

Dash leaned towards Joe and whispered, “Make sure Atty doesn’t accidentally shoot him.”

“Hmph. Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Then you can get down on your hands and knees to scrub the German’s brains off the floor.”

Joe begrudgingly nodded.

Dash prayed all three men would keep their tempers in check. Last thing his birthday needed was a shoot-out on top of a fight. He walked towards the mirror in the back wall and pushed the left-hand side. The mirror silently swung open on its hidden hinges.

He no sooner entered the main room of Pinstripes than Finn glided up to him and shoved a cloth filled with ice into his hands.

“For your poor, battered face.”

Dash gingerly placed the makeshift ice pack against his cheek. The cold sent a searing, sharp pain to the back of his eye. He sucked in air between his teeth.

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Not yet, but soon it’ll be a spectacular black and purple. Did you find out why that man hates you so?”

Dash told him the situation.

“Oh dear,” Finn replied. “And he wants to drag his brother out by his hair? How caveman! Why would you turn this boy over to a brute like that?”

Dash shook his head. “I’m not. I’m simply giving the boy the choice. If he doesn’t want to leave, he won’t. Simple as that.”

Finn peered over Dash’s shoulder. “Where is this Walter, by the way? He’s not coming in here again?”

“Atty has our angry German under guard.”

“I hope the gun doesn’t go off.”

“Has anyone ever told you what a comfort you are? His brother may not even be here. He’s adamant about that but he could be mistaken.” Dash handed Finn the photograph Walter gave him. “Look like anyone you’ve waited on tonight?”

Finn studied the photograph, purring, “He is a choice bit